life in... Carlisle vs. Pittsburgh

Carlisle: I study the language of the law.
Pittsburgh: Ma amoureuse etudie la langue de l'amour.

Carlisle: I sit three feet from my electric ceramic heater.
Pittsburgh: Mr. D warms my lap and purrs like an engine.

Carlisle: No television.
Pittsburgh: I recognize the guy in the Afrin commercial from the D.U.I. p.s.a.

Carlisle: Eat standing up at the kitchenette counter before running out the door.
Pittsburgh: Share a bottle of wine with Love over a dinner of broiled salmon, roasted turnips and red cabbage salad.

Carlisle: Go out drinking with friends once a week and talk about intricate legal or classroom issues.
Pittsburgh: Sit on the couch next to farting dog and stare at a box with moving pictures on it.

Carlisle: Laundry and grocery shopping, or Federal Income Tax and editing?
Pittsburgh: Tell Love I went out drinking with friends and discussed intricate legal or classroom issues.

Carlisle: Move the pile of advocacy textbooks from the floor so I can sit at my desk.
Pittsburgh: Sit on the couch and blog.

Carlisle: The bed all to myself, and the electric blanket up as high as I want.
Pittsburgh: Love telling me to roll over, Mr. D curled up between my knees, Mr. C hiding under the bed, and Sopha-girl farting in her sleep on the floor. Heaven.

Overheard at the Library:

"I'm making myself sick. I just gave Scalia mad props and slapped O'Connor in the face. I have to take a break." ~N.P.

Unbridled, Yet Focused

"YIPPEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ...thus ends my moment of enthusiasm. Back to work."

~SP, upon learning that Eric Bergsten acknowledged receipt of our Vis memorandum.

I Am Running Out

1) of clean pants;
2) to Walmart, to get laundry quarters;
3) of fresh food. Everything's tinned and boxed, and some of that is also frozen;
4) of time. One week of class left, with eleven writing assignments due in the next eight days, including the Vis memorandum; one, thirty-page seminar paper; two self-evaluations for advocacy; four transfer memoranda, one journal assignment, one final case review memorandum and one course evaluation for Clinic.

"THUMP"

...is the sound my blind cat makes when he leaps smack into my lap...top.

Manic Monday

I had a really, really, really great break. Which means that somehow, between when I return to Carlisle tomorrow afternoon and 9am Monday morning, I will finish and submit my motion in limine assignment and my self-evaluation of the "advanced direct examination" I did before break, and write and rehearse a closing argument. I swore I would get all that done at a leisurely pace over break, but instead, I took a break. This will be my fourteenth Monday of the semester, and what I have learned is that somehow it all gets done, on time, and often rather well. I've been there for all of them, but I still can't explain how it all gets done.

The actual Monday kicks off with my 9am "filing deadline" for Advocacy class, and two hours of Electronic Evidence, from 9am-11am. Then I'm at the Clinic from 11:30 - 4:30. I go home, eat something but not too much (pre-presentation jitters), put on my suit, and cram for Advocacy, which is from 7-9pm. After two hours of oral-advocacy presentations and public feedback, I unwind by walking home (4 blocks), and by the time I put on my pj's, I've completely unraveled.

Tuesday's schedule is lighter: three meetings and one class, and their requisite prep-work.

Wednesday is thrilling and scary: two hearings. Enough said. I will have Tax class afterward, but I imagine flashbacks from the morning's hearings will keep me from hearing much of anything. Fortunately Tax, being tax, moves slowly. It shouldn't be too hard to catch up.

This week, I applied for a job. I've been anxious about not being employed by the time I graduate. Today it occurred to me that if all goes well, someone will actually hire me to be a real lawyer. I've wanted this since I was fifteen, and I feel exhilarated - bordering on terrified. It's as if I'm about to go from having a learner's permit to a full-blown driver's license. They're actually going to let me on the highway. Amazing.

Simmering

Last night at 10pm found me content in the kitchen, throwing together a recipe I thought Love would like. By 10:20 I couldn't keep my eyes off the clock. By 10:30 my fickle anxiety vacillated between images of Love dead in a ditch, to picturing her at a coffee house spending time with someone who doesn't live three hours away most of the year, unlike me, why the hell isn't she home with me and why the hell am I home cooking for someone who can't be bothered to be with me on the few days I'm home? By 10:40 I remembered that this woman has truly earned (the hard way, over and over again), the benefit of the doubt, and so I resolved not to sound like Insane Girlfriend, even if I was stuck with her in the kitchen (because surely, this isn't the real me): I would wait until 10:45 to call her and make sure she was okay.

At 10:44 she called, and said, "I'm just calling to let you know that I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere and I'm not taking you for granted. They closed down one lane of traffic on 376 and also closed our exit. I'll be home as soon as I can find an open road."

At 11pm she walked in the door and handed me a card that ended, "You are so foreign to me in so many ways, but you are the stranger I know best and the only one I want to know completely."

I am so grateful.